


When Angels Come

by His_Royal_Gothness



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/His_Royal_Gothness/pseuds/His_Royal_Gothness
Summary: Upon the besieged Hive World of Altima a frightened girl wanders through ruin and ash, her world shaken before her, lost and alone she seeks her way through the darkness around her, where insidious forces lurk with twisted intent. It is in her time of greatest need that light breaks through her blackened world. An Angel clad in emerald and gold saves her from the darkness. Oneshot
Kudos: 14





	When Angels Come

**I do not own anything within this story, other than the storyline itself, all rights go to Games Workshop.**

**DISCLAIMER: Some parts of this story may come across as distressing to some reader as it's designed to bring out the empathy of the reader for the characters and hatred for the villains, please read at own discretion.**

**When Angels Come**

It is in times of great darkness that we seek out the light, a flame to rekindle the ember of our hope when all things have seemingly come to an end, it is the very nature of the human soul to cry out against fate when the shadow encroaches upon us; And it is in these very times where even the smallest light will shine like the mightiest of stars to our broken souls.

_''I saw an Angel once, when I was still but a child, he came to my world of ash and ruin, in a halo of blinding light he came; and... he saved me, God-Emperor be blessed! he saved me! With the Emperor's fury he pulled me from the grasp of darkness and carried me into the light, were it not for him... I'd have, I... I don't know what would have happened.''_

* * *

The sky choked; cast in hues of mournful grey the skies of Altima wept as smoke and ash rose to it's heavens, rays of straining pale light struggled with all their might to shine through the darkness the choking clouds of ash cast, ash born from the husks of the world's besieged hive-cities. What little light passed through, cast foreboding shadows upon the city's defiled architecture, a contrast of pale, dust filled gold light and the cold greys of gothic rockcrete ruins, while all was still. It almost offered a serene and melancholy atmosphere, like a moment preserved in time and the world seemly home to no one, but the cacophony of distant battle that resonated in the otherwise still air dispelled any illusion of such.

Through the remains of a grand stylised broken archway and the remnants of pillars that once held a great basilica's ornate domed roof, that now lay half buried under debris within the Hive's wide cavernous streets, movement broke the still tides of airborne dust, casting them into lazy swirls and wisps as the sound of small bare feet upon the fallen basilica's green oxidised roof made them self known.

A small form cast in shadow from the towering buildings that still stood, made it's way down from the rubble, with small limbs grasping for stability on the ruins around it, uncertain in it's steps as it flinched and paused as it's bare feet stood upon sharp metal and broken rockcrete, and with every other step a slip would threaten it falling down the steep slopes and drops of the basilica ruins. Soon the figure made it to even ground, as even a ground can be in a war torn city, and into the pale light and falling ash.

A girl, no older than eleven walked out into the dust filled light, sapphire eyes glistening with unshed tears looked around in uncertainty, coupled with an innocent fear, an Aquila necklace lay partially hidden behind her neck length golden hair, hair that was dulled as dust clung to every strand, just as dust covered her torn and dishevelled pale straight dress. An arm held another at the elbow, clearly hurt and distressed as cuts and bruising were clear to see even under the covering of ash upon her skin.

The rumble of distant explosions made her flinch for a moment, making her bring her arms in closer to her form in a futile effort to shield herself from the unseen foe, while she looked with scared eyes to the Hive's far off broken skyline.

After a moment of deliberation and a few more uncertain steps forward the girl made her way through her dilapidated home, casting her troubled eyes to her surroundings as she walked, fallen buildings that once stood proud in their artistic splendour to the God-Emperor welcomed her, now laying half collapsed upon the wide street. A tear slipped free, trailing a clear line down her dirtied face as her features scrunched up in distress.

''Mama!'' she cried out to the deserted ruins, her voice breaking into a sob as it echoed against the wide dust laden street and when nothing but silence answered.

A small hand came up to wipe her eyes free of tears as she once again looked to her surroundings, passing broken archways and ash covered statues of venerated saints that made her feel more frightened than safe, as she seemingly walked deeper into the monastic sector of the Hive city.

''Mama!'' again she cried once again to no reply, her arm went to rub her elbow, it hurt, her feet hurt, her head hurt, she was confused and frightened, not fully understanding what was happening. A short few hours ago she was in her mother's arms being carried to a ''safe place'' as her mother said, a place where the Emperor would protect them while they walked with the rest of the Hive's masses, but that soon changed when the buildings started to fall, people started screaming and she and her mother were pushed to the ground in the resulting panic and everything went black.

When she awoke she was alone and hurt, laying at the lip of the ruined steps of a fallen basilica, covered in a blanket of off-white ash with her mother nowhere to be found and with no way for her to find her.

The screeching call of a Valkyrie thundered low over the tops of the buildings above, it's passing shaking the crippled habitation blocks letting loose the ash that had lain atop them, while the girl instinctively dropped to a crouch with a frightened squeak and covered her ears at the sudden appearance of such a terrifying noise, and was forced to scrunch her eyes tight closed as a great uproar of raging wind and ash tore through the street at the Valkyrie's passing.

After a panicked moment that felt like hours to the cowering girl, the calming of the ash born tempest came, the Valkyrie's rumble now joining the far off choir of battle that faded from hearing as the girl's harsh, shaking breathes took all precedence in the broken besieged Hive's street. She was crying openly now, her tiny frame trembling with every harsh breath, while she stayed in a crouch and held her ears, not caring of how her cheeks became stained with lines of dull grey as tears and ash mixed, she didn't care to notice as they fell upon the ashen ground, with each drop revealing more of what lay beneath, a shimmering gold.

''Mama, mama'' she sobbed quietly to herself, she tried to be strong as her Father had once taught her, to trust in the Emperor to protect her, but she didn't understand any of it, where was the Emperor now when she needed him most? The Priests at the monastery preached that Hate was the Emperor's most precious gift to us, that hate could conquer all, but she was too young to feel true hate, she had no understanding of it and so in turn fear ruled her.

Slowly and fearfully she finally dared to open her eyes once again, and with shaking arms she once more brought them to her face, using the backs of her hands to clear her vision obscured by her tears. It was after this and after she used her dress's tattered sleeves to dry her cheeks, now little more than smudges of dirty grey upon them, that she finally took notice of the slight shimmering gold that seemed too out of place in this world of monochrome.

Sniffling as she tried to shake free of fear's grip with a new found curiosity, with one knee after the other she slowly lowered herself to the ground, to gain a closer look at the shimmer of gold. The ash felt abrasive to her shins where her dress failed to cover with it's length, while it looked akin to snow, it felt warm and itchy to the skin, it only added to her persistent fear that refused to fully leave her.

Reaching out with tiny shaking hands, she slowly began to uncover the gold beneath the ash, moving aside as much ash as she was tall, soon the gold grew as a familiar shape became clear, one of the golden heads of the Aquila still half obscured, embedded in the rockcrete road, looking to her side far from the centre of where she knelt, she took note of it's wings in patches where ash had been disturbed at the passing of the Valkyrie above. It was through this and the understanding that she was in the Monastic sector of the city that recognition was birthed in her mind, she knew of a place in her home that housed an Aquila like this.

Rising to her feet and with tear stained eyes wide as she gazed with scrutiny at the street beyond her, looking for any sign of familiarity through the dense hue of dust, though with what little light available to her not much could be seen further along the street.

Gathering her courage once more, feeling less lost at the sight of a familiar landmark, she began to walk forward, her movements filled with a boldness once forgotten to her and at a speed her cautiousness before would not allow, though her desperation seemed to stay all the same. She soon came to a sight that sent a wave of emotion to course through her.

Coming to a stop below a grand arch that held a gleaming Aquilla aloft, stretching wide to act as doorway to the entire street, while two statues of winged Imperial Saints in white stone holding sword and shield stood as wardens. Beyond a great courtyard stretched out before her eyes, the clearing clearly allowing more airflow compared to the maze like streets before, as the dust that plagued the hive's streets was nonexistent, as if swept away by the Emperor's merciful hand and without the presence of suffocating buildings, light poured in to the courtyard, momentarily blinding the poor girl making her shield her eyes with her arms while they adjusted to something that was not the multitude of shades of shadow. As focus came back to her sight she lay her eyes upon the very thing she had hoped for, at the opposite side of the courtyard stood perhaps the most prodigious house of worship in the hive. The great Monastery of the God-Emperor in all it's majesty and aesthetic grandeur as it stretched as wide as the courtyards circumference and reaching heights tall enough to cast a shadow across a greater part of the grounds it sat upon.

It was truly a bastion of beauty in an otherwise suffocating city.

Though it was a stark contrast to the hive's streets, the one constant remained, war had touched this place also. The mosaics of Imperial artistry that covered the courtyard's smooth stone floor had been defiled and blackened by fire and smoke, while craters and uprooted earth lay strewn across it's face, what circlets of trees and other fauna that she once remembered with fondness lay destroyed and broken as the treads of mighty war-machines cut swaths through their gardens.

Some of said war-machines still remained, close to the courtyard's entrance, perhaps but twenty steps inwards, sat the derelict form of a Baneblade. She had seen one such machine before, once when her Father sat atop of it as it thundered past with the rest of the parade, she remembered how proud her Father looked at the sound of her cheering and that of her Mother, along with the rest of the hive that day.

Clad in the earthly maroon of the world's Imperial Guard, it sat immobile and peaceful, in clear opposition to it's very meaning in life as a master of war; though scorch marks around it's armoured skirt could be seen, along with with the dull silver of scratches and chinks birthed from Autoguns and shrapnel, with most notably one of it's great armoured tracks laying at it's side, broken and disassembled. One of it's armoured sponsons was nought but blackened twisted metal, to it's left a great searing wound of melted steel alloy giving view to the Baneblade's interior, so perhaps it had fulfilled it's purpose in the end.

Feeling inquisitive towards the familiar vehicle, with thoughts of her Father filling her mind, she stepped up to the derelict war-machine. It's bulk seemed to tower over her as it dominated her sight to her left and right as she stared at it, marvelling at how with her height she could barely touch the bottom of it's armoured skirt as she placed a hand upon the fissure of broiled metal, it was warm to the touch, wondering what could have inflicted such a wound to the Godlike machine, she retracted her hand and returned it to her aching arm once more.

Too caught up in her observations of the mighty war engine in front of her did she block out the world around her, a grave mistake for one so vulnerable, as it was too late when she finally took notice of a presence behind her.

''Little lamb, have you lost your way?'' a harsh, rasping voice sounded from behind her in a mocking tone, the voice so close she swore she could feel the passing of breath that carried the words.

With eyes wide, startled and filled with fear, she whipped her body around to look behind her and meet the voice that had interrupted her thoughts. And what she saw made her backpedal instinctively and shrink into herself as her arms came in close protect her body.

There before her stood three dishevelled, barbaric looking figures, clothed in dirty grey fatigues with stained wrapping that held cruel looking blades, holstered autopistols and other devices of war, while patchworks of angular weathered dark blue armour lay strewn about their bodies, most notable as chest pieces, shoulder guards and wrist and shin protectors, all engraved with symbols and icons that stung at her eyes and just seemed wrong at a primal level, most numerous of all was an eight pointed star.

Two wore helmets matching the colouration of their armour, though a face plate of dirtied sliver, fashioned into that of a weeping face covered their features, while the closet figure also wore the same face plate, his head was uncovered, revealing a mess of long greasy, unkempt black hair.

All three carried weapons in their hands almost lackadaisically, the black haired figure and one to his right wielded dirtied and rusted Autoguns, their muzzles black from over use and lack of care respectively, while the one to his left held a crude intimation of a flamer, shown by the flickering of a small flame at it's maw, something that did not go unnoticed by the girl as her eyes darted between the three, her unease clear to see as she backed up again only to for her back to meet the cold unrelenting mass of the Baneblade behind her.

The black haired cultist laughed in a low tone at the sight, taking delight in the expression of fear that cross her face, taking a step forward he encroached upon her.

''Where are your parents little lamb? Are they dead? Are they with your Corspe-God?'' He said with a laugh as he came closer ever so insidiously, an action the two other cultists mimicked, following their leader like a gaggle of sycophants trying to please a master. His words renewed the tears in her eyes as she realised these people offered nothing but harm and she was at their mercy.

Mercy that was seemingly nonexistent as he stopped a hair's breadth from her and reached out with sinister intentions, causing her to turn head away as a sob caught her throat.

''Shhhh, don't cry, I'll reunite you with them'' he said in tone mocking sincerity. He then suddenly snatched her roughly by the hair and lifted her from the ground, uncaring at how the girl screamed and how her own hands came up to grasp his own in a futile effort to get out of his grasp. Her efforts only succeeding in making him laugh again.

Using her arms as leverage she managed to raise herself enough to bring her face level to the cultist's hand, seeing it unarmoured, she took the advantage and sank her teeth, biting down across his bare fingers and knuckles as hard as she could, with the taste of iron settling upon her tongue.

An enraged roar tore through the cultist's lips, muffled by the silver mask it may have been but it lost none of it fury.

''You little brat!'' he screamed in rage so loud it rang her ears, she felt his grip tightening on her hair as he pulled back his arm to then launch it forward with force and threw her from him.

A resounding clank echoed across the courtyard as she collided into the side of the Baneblade, her back and head taking the brunt of thick armoured war-machine, as she was dazed with the wind taken from her lungs. The cultist didn't give her time to gather her bearings before he was in front of her again, an arm reaching for her as he snatched her up by her throat and once more slammed her back in the Baneblade's hull. She openly wailed now, tears streamed down her face as she looked in the cultist's face plate with her terrified sapphire eyes.

''Mama, mama!'' she wailed between sobs, her voice devolving into strained hiccups at their intensity. A backhand to her face snapped her head to the side, causing her crying to grown in pitch as result making her raise a trembling hand to her now red and stinging cheek as she continued to look away from the still furious chaos worshipper.

''Your whore mother, nor your carrion lord can save you girl!'' he shouted once more, turning with her still in his grip he then proceeded to throw her across the hard smooth ground, past the two observing cultists, to where she struggled to raise herself on her palms with shaking arms, her wailing had quieted as her body wracked with sobs.

A sharp hiss spoke up as the flamer wielding cultist levelled his weapon on the downed form of the girl in front of him, the flame upon the weapon's maw turning from a lazy flickering orange to an angry hissing blue.

''No! I want her head untarnished!'' came the snarling order from the black haired cultist as he advanced upon her fallen form again, his hand going for a cruel blade strapped to his thigh and removing it from it's crude leather sheath.

Grabbing her by the hair once more, he turned her to face him, all fight had left her and while tears and sobs remained, her eyes showed a hopelessness no child should ever feel as she watched him raise a jagged blade in his hand.

''Mama's waiting'' he said in harsh low tone, as he moved his blade to touch her throat.

She stared at the blade with weeping eyes, her Farther had once said at her questioning that we all go to join the God-Emperor's side when we pass on from this life, to an afterlife where they will all be together in His warm embrace, a place where he would protect us for all eternity, if her Mama and Papa now sits at the Emperor's then she would see them again.

For the first time in her short life, outside the chapels and monasteries or at the commands of her parents, closing her teary eyes she said a prayer to the Emperor, asking him to save her soul, so she could be beside her parent once more.

It was then moments later the world became a flash of white.

And then a shadow descended upon her, confused she opened her eyes once more, the cultist had frozen as his head looked over his shoulder, to what she could not see from her angle in her kneeling form. With eyes full of tears she peered up from the side of the cultist's leg to see what had caught his attention, and a wave of fresh tears came at the sight that welcomed her.

An Angel.

At the sudden flash of blazing white and sound of static from behind, coupled with the great shadow that descended but moments after, the black haired cultist turned his head, his vision was met with a towering wall of green and gold, and the heraldry of scale and flame but inches from his face, raising his eyes up his gaze met that of angry glowing red lenses and a hatred unsurpassed.

The Cataphractii clad Salamander looked down upon the pathetic creature before him with disgust and revilement, he then cast his gaze to the weeping child peering from behind the cultist's leg who's hair the creature still held in it's dirty hand, a child that looked at him with such sadness and hope with red eyes and bruised cheek that it made his blood boil in his veins as if they were the very molten streams of Nocturne itself.

An armoured hand suddenly clasped around the cultist's throat, lifting him from the ground with a gargled rasp and kicking feet as he lost grip of the girl's hair and his weapons as they clattered to the ground, as he raised his hands to the fist that was currently crushing his airways. A flash of blue in his peripherals and the sound of raging thunder caught his attention and with it's birth he knew nought but pain.

The power sword cauterised his flesh as it pierced his abdomen and to then burst out his back, with his armour offering petulant resistance as it broiled and melted against the relic weapon's powerfield just as his flesh and insides did at it's touch also. His scream drowned out all else as agony became all to his warped mind's senses, he raised his hands to grip the weapons edge, an effort that afforded him their loss as they evaporated to mist at contact.

It was this that seemed to knock the two horrified cultist from their stupor at the sudden appearance of such a hulking foe in an act of seemingly divine intervention, as the flamer wielding cultist dropped his weapon in terror, while his Autogun wielding brethren raised his weapon and opened fire in a burst of fully automatic slugs, like a hail of firebolts they struck the Terminator's armour with wrathful intent, only to ping and ricochet off the blessed ceramite with a sound akin to mocking laughter.

With a great heave the Salamander sliced his blade to the side, ridding the impaled, now bisected cultist from it, where he crumpled to the ground like a pile of discarded meat. A armoured arm raised to the now reloading cultist at his left and the heavy thundering roar of a Storm bolter filled the air, the fist sized bolter rounds streaking in fire wreathed bolts impacted with the cultist's torso in a blast of kinetic force that turned his upper half to a fine red mist, as his lower half collapsed to the ground. A fate the cultist that now scrambled for his lost weapon shared but moments after.

But a few seconds it lasted and now all was still in the wake of his fury, the only sound now coming from the far off battles beyond the monastic sector of the hive, as he gazed with unshielded hate at the fallen forms of those that had turned from the Emperor's light, that was until the slight rustling of cloth and sniffling sobs reached his ears.

Turning his gaze to the form of the broken girl that sat upon her haunches, he looked on in sadness as she held her still stinging cheek and wiped her tearful eyes with the palm of her hand with pain clear to see across her features.

With the lumbering strides his cataphractii armour gave him, like a wrathful god he strode to the where the lonesome child sat, the thundering sound of his coming in turn making the girl raise her sorrowful eyes to the emerald and gold angel as he towered above her like a vengeful guardian, after a moment of sniffled breaths, looking up at her saviour she made decision, raising herself on her knees and with a painfully pleading expression and tearful eyes she outstretched her arms to the Astarte before her, like a child would to a parent when in need of comfort to sooth their frightened minds and mend their broken spirit.

And the Astarte didn't hesitate, with the sheathing of his blade and clasping his storm bolter to his thigh, he crouched down to lift up the fragile girl as if she were nought but a feather to cradle in his hulking arms, to which she responded by burying her head into his armoured torso and wept openly once more, but now not out of fear or hurt, but relief.

''Cry not young one, no more harm shall come to you now.'' came the deep distorted voice through the Astartes helm, as he raised a armoured hand to her comparatively tiny back in an act of comfort, hoping to swell her tears and ease her pain.

''What is your name child?'' he asked while looking to the grounds before him he saw no others amongst the war torn courtyard that could hold connection to the girl in his arms.

''Myala'' came the quiet, muffled, still sniffling reply, to which he nodded.

''And are you alone little one?'' came his voice once more, a rich tone, filled with concern could be heard under the distortion of his helmet's vox. A slight nod of the girl's head was the only reply he received, a reply that caused him to turn on his feet and set off in a march to the vast cathedral in the far distance of the ruined courtyard.

''No longer.'' was his only reply.

* * *

It took time to reach the colossal cathedral at the courtyard's edge, time in which Myala spent observing the angel that had saved her, because truly that is all he could be, one of the Emperor's angels, his chosen. He had remained silent since he began his thunderous march across the vast courtyard, keeping a constant vigil to his surroundings while she had grown calmer and in turn bolder.

She ran her tiny fingers across the artistry he was adorned with as she rested against his armour, marvelling at the golden heraldry of his chapter and the Aquila that lay sprawled across his chest plate, placing a hand upon it she thought of how her prayer had been answered.

They had passed many a sight on their journey here, abandoned barricades and weapon entrenchments, burning husks of war-machines she was less familiar with and some sights to which the Astarte covered her eyes to, while the occasional Valkyrie and Vulture would storm overhead.

But soon the mountainous monastery lay before them, it's tall golden doors lay shut and unyielding, it's rockcrete walls a citadel of strength that held in artistry befitting for a great shrine to the Emperor, though it was what stood in front of them that seemingly held both their attention. A squad of emerald clad Astartes stood as wardens to the monastery's doors, all adorned in heraldry of the Salamanders, holding bolters to their chests, though one held a thunder hammer of masterful craftsmanship attached to his waist.

Seeing their approach, the Astarte wielding the thunder hammer stepped forth to greet them.

''Brother Kor'val, it brings me great joy to known you had not been met with ill fate, when we heard word you had changed your destination within the teleportarium we feared the worst'' greeted the Astarte with a hand held to his chest in a fist and bow of his head.

''Your concern while welcome Brother-Sergeant, was unneeded. As for my reason to my change in drop point, she is within my arms. A vox transmission from one of the Imperial Navy's Valkyries from the planet was intercepted, it stated a report of young child wandering the streets in this sector, and by Vulkan's blood would I not turn a blind eye to such an innocent soul in need.'' replied the now named Kor'val as he gestured to Myala within his arms, who gazed at the two with curious eyes.

''I see, truly you have brought honour to the chapter with such a deed brother.'' he replied, a tone respect in his praise.

''I would enter now, she requires rest and a healer, it would do her well to be amongst her people.'' he said while looking to the doors beyond. To which the Salamander Sergeant nodded and stepped aside in order to let his larger brother pass, after which two marines proceeded to open the great doors to the monastery.

To say inside was cavernous would be an understatement. Pillars and archways of gothic design were in abundance in the vast space before them, statues of saints lay in crofts within walls, while tapestries hung from the domed roof of gold between great stained glass windows and the very far end stood a magnificent statue of the Emperor in all his divine might and protection.

The majority of the space within was occupied, before them sat hundreds, perhaps thousands of the hive's populace, most gathered in groups of families, some alone and others laying in makeshift cots for the frail and wounded. All of which turned to them upon their entrance, many bowing or showing the sign of the Aquila with their hands and uttering benedictions upon sighting the Salamander.

Kor'val made it but ten steps inside before a wail echoed across the chamber, turning his head to it's origin he saw a short mortal woman with mousy brown hair within the crowd, staring at him and his charge with wide tearful eyes as she held hands to her mouth in clear shock.

''Myala!'' came the words in the form of a choked unbelieving sob, her words having the dual effect of causing Kor'val to look to the girl in his arms, while said girl tore her eyes from gazing up at the ceiling high above her, to the same woman within the now gawking and whispering crowd.

''Mama!'' came a cry of joy from Myala as she laid eyes upon the form of her mother, who had collapsed to her knees as she wept at the sight of her daughter alive and well within the arms of a Astarte.

Striding forward with Myala still in his arms, to which everyone but the kneeling mother who was muttering praises and thanks to the Emperor through quivering lips, stepped back in either respect or reverence, Kor'val stood before her in his towering magnitude and then lowered the now crying and smiling girl to the waiting arms of her mother.

Kor'val stood silent as the two held each other with an embrace that the Gods themselves could not tear asunder, with tears and kisses hours of worry and pain disappeared, as Myala seemingly forgot all the horror that had come to pass just hours before.

''Her wounds are minor enough to not require the immediate skills of a healer, but I ask that she should have them tended to before the day's end.'' came Kor'val's baritone voice, causing the mother to look at Myala's injuries with sorrow and then turn her gaze to the Angel standing above her.

''Thank you my lord, thank you! thank you for saving my daughter, Emperor be blessed!'' she said in sobs as she held Myala's head, stroking her dirty blonde hair, who also looked up at him with a sincere smile that conveyed her thanks also.

''The sons of Vulkan require no thanks for our deeds, only the knowledge that our actions protect those innocents of the Emperor's Imperium.'' claimed Kor'val humbly, like any proud son of Vulkan.

''Nevertheless you have my undying gratitude my lord.'' she replied and with that he turned once more, heading to the doors that lead to his brothers.

His words brought smiles and prayers to those who heard them, clearly the deeds of the chapter would flourish with this day and hope in the Emperor's Angels of Death soar.

Slipping free from her mother's arms, Myala stared at the retreating form of Kor'val, adoration in her eyes and faith a flame in her small heart, her mother coming to her side, she clasped a hold of the Aquila that hung from her neck, a prayer of thanks upon her lips.


End file.
